


Heat

by consumptive_sphinx



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Human AU, M/M, Modern AU, road trip au, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s mid-July and the air is sticky hot, even at night with the windows rolled down. If they were anywhere but the back of Glorfindel’s car, Erestor would shy away from contact and the body heat the comes with it; as it is, there’s nowhere near enough space, and his back is pressed against Glorfindel’s chest, the other’s arms wrapped around his waist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Today is my 1-year anniversary of joining this site, so I thought I'd celebrate.

It’s mid-July and the air is sticky hot, even at night with the windows rolled down. If they were anywhere but the back of Glorfindel’s car, Erestor would shy away from contact and the body heat the comes with it; as it is, there’s nowhere near enough space, and his back is pressed against Glorfindel’s chest, the other’s arms wrapped around his waist.

Glorfindel may or may not be asleep; it’s hard to tell. Erestor definitely isn’t. It’s too hot, Glorfindel’s touch searing his skin like a brand and the air so Saran-Wrap tight on his skin that he can hardly breathe.

“You’re awake still,” Glorfindel murmurs, his breath like humid fire on the back of Erestor’s neck.

“It’s too _hot,”_ Erestor replies, the _if you say hot damn I’m going to kill you_ going unspoken but understood between them. “Do we still have ice in the cooler?”

Glorfindel shakes his head. “It all melted yesterday.” He wraps his arms tighter around Erestor, splays one hand out over his heartbeat exactly the way he likes. Erestor can almost ignore the rush of extra heat in favor of the swell in his chest. “I’d bring you a glacier if I could, babe.”

Erestor smiles, moves his arms so he’s holding Glorfindel back. “I know you would.” He pauses and looks out the window. The moon’s gone down by now, but there’s still another four hours until dawn, and even on the freeway next to them there are barely any cars going by.

“You know, since neither of us are asleep, we could keep driving.” Which is exactly the conclusion Erestor just came to.

He leans back, closer still to Glorfindel. “We should be able to get to New Orleans by tomorrow. If we left right now.”

But neither of them really want to.


	2. Chapter 2

In New Orleans things aren't as bad as Erestor feared, but not as good as he hoped — that is, they're about what he expected.

The heat hasn't let up. Not that he expected it to, as it's only been two days. That's both a curse and a blessing, because humidity rots the zombies faster but will dehydrate him and Glorfindel faster too. The water lines and electricity were shut off long ago, but that's true everywhere, and most people who ran didn't bother to clear out their cupboards so there's no shortage of food, as long as you're willing to steal.

They hide out in an abandoned flat, after taking an hour or so to barricade the door against looters and find a way up the building wall to the balcony. True to form nothing's been touched, and a good deal of the left-behind food is rotten, but there are cans and dried fruit and bottled water, and after days of driving without replenishing their supply it's a godsend.

Or at least, it would be if Erestor still believed in a god. He had, before, but no benevolent God would do this — although maybe that just means the Greeks got it right after all, because Zeus unleashing a plague of undead he can picture.

"This isn't ever going to end, is it." Glorfindel's voice cuts the silence like a knife in a fistfight. Erestor doesn't say anything, just sinks down next to his — his boyfriend, his partner, his partner in crime, his lover, his what-even-are-they-now — on the floor, and leans against Glorfindel's side.

"I don't know." It feels strange to admit. "I'm not sure I want to know. What if it isn't?"

Glorfindel is quiet for another long moment. Erestor isn't looking at him, but he can feel the gaze weighing heavy on his skin. "I love you, you know."

He nods, and shifts closer to Glorfindel.

God. He's so tired. That same heat that seemed blistering two days ago is just sleepy now. Maybe he could just sleep here, on the floor, next to Fin…

The door pounds. Just once, but Glorfindel jumps, and Erestor is startled awake with him. They gather their guns from the counter, Glorfindel's rifle he calls Asfaloth and Erestor's pistol.

Another pound on the door. There is no reason for any human to search for them, as no way for any human to know where they are.

Another. The wood splits. There's a bed pulled in front of it, but that was meant to stop human attackers, not the undead.

The door breaks. Glorfindel's fired before Erestor's mind can really catch up, and he hits right between the eyes — but there's another, and another, and another. The door isn't wide enough for more than one, but they just keep coming —

It only makes sense that eventually, one gets through. Glorfindel's out of bullets, Erestor shoots — _miss_ — again — _miss, FUCK_ — oh god why is it so _quiet,_ they're supposed to be moaning — _hit._ Finally.

But if the way he's holding his arm is any indication, Glorfindel's been bitten.


	3. Chapter 3

The wound is a mottled blue, fading to green at the edges. It's spreading slowly, but it's definitely spreading.

Erestor wraps a bandage around it, concealing the discoloured patch. Glorfindel hasn't seen it yet, he doesn't think. "It's just a scratch," he lies. "It got way too close, the bullet probably grazed you when I shot it. Sorry."

Glorfindel lets out a long breath, like he hadn't realised he'd been holding it. "Good."

There's several minutes of silence where they're leaning against one another, not asleep but very still.

They're wasting time they don't have much of.

"I don't think I can sleep," Erestor says, and he can feel Glorfindel's smile.

"Then let's not," he says, almost growling, and he flips Erestor over to lie on his back on the floor — and the rest follows from there.

\------

"How much longer do I have?" Glorfindel asks when they come down from the high. The — injury — now covers most of his left bicep.

Erestor sits up and looks at him, wide-eyed.

Glorfindel snorts. "I know the difference between teeth and a bullet, Res. How much longer, do you think?"

"Fifteen minutes. Maybe thirty." He swallows, hard. "I don't know."

Glorfindel takes the pistol from the floor and carefully, painstakingly, reloads it. "Will you, or should I?"

Erestor had planned on doing it himself, in the middle of a kiss. Let Glorfindel die with a smile on his face. "I will."

He takes the gun, holds it to Glorfindel's temple, and stops. "I love you."

"I love you too," Glorfindel whispers, and leans forward so their foreheads touch. "Please, Erestor, just do it —"

_Bang._

Glorfindel's body slumps against Erestor's chest, heavy and still warm.

He doesn't try to talk himself out of it. Erestor lifts the gun to his own temple and squeezes the trigger again.

_I love you._


End file.
